


Loyalty

by ManicRavingsofaLunatic



Series: The In Between [8]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I'm gonna torture him again, Sequel to Identity/Fragility, poor dickie can never have it easy, tw: depression, tw: substance abuse, yes - Freeform, you know you love it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManicRavingsofaLunatic/pseuds/ManicRavingsofaLunatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Fragility. The puppet-master behind the events of Identity/Fragility is ready to play their final hand; twisting the heart and mind of a young hero to their own whim. With the team's bonds well and truly tested, can they win this fight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

The Atlanteans should have been in their element.

Granted, they were still on dry land, just about – the polluted water of Gotham Harbour a mere stone's throw away and the ocean beyond that – but they weren't exactly _out_ of water. The rain fell so heavy and fast and thick around them that it was indistinguishable as individual droplets, practically the sea itself falling from the sky and blanketing the city.

It made Kaldur feel stronger, his muscles enriched by his natural element. His vision was sharper than any humans; adapted to visibility as low as the submerged city in which he was raised. He practically felt at home in the dark and the cold. His water-bearers had no end of fuel with which to manipulate and bend to his will. He should have been a force to be reckoned with.

And yet.

Somehow, inexplicably, he had lost the upper hand of the waterside battle in moments; the past ten minutes of hard fighting granting him nothing more than his continued survival.

Kaldur wasn't even alone, or outnumbered, either. Tula and Garth had joined him in the fray, which if anything, should have secured their victory against their lone opponent in minutes. There was no excuse for why this fight was turning out to be so difficult.

Except for _him._

He was a shadow, the thing that they fought, which was kind of understandable with the darkness of the night and the relentlessness of the rain; but against the Atlanteans that should have meant nothing. They were trained in the depths of the ocean. The rain and the cold and the darkness should have been _their_ advantage. Not _his_.

It was as if he moved too fast to affect the heavy precipitation. Like it never touched him at all. There were no changes to read in the water – like they could sense the currents of motion in the sea. There were no changes in temperature either – the presence of a warm-blooded land dweller should have been easy to pick up in the near-freezing cold. But it wasn't.

Just _who_ was this person? Or maybe... _what?_

Kaldur hadn't seen anything beyond the vague shape that had managed to get so close without him noticing; pain from sudden hits to his jaw and stomach keeping him blind as the shadow flitted away again. He already sported a sprained wrist, that had forced him to drop a water-bearer, and a twisted knee that struggled to hold his weight. And still he had yet to land a _single_ blow on their opponent.

The injuries themselves were all superficial though, none of them really designed to incapacitate long term. They were dealt as quick as lightning and without a chance of rebuttal, as if their opponent knew that he was right to avoid a proper grapple with the above-human strength of an Atlantean.

The shadow was smart. And trained. And corralling them just the way that he wanted. He kept the three Atlanteans on edge, his flittering appearances always in the centre of the triangle that they had unintentionally formed; so that they faced inwards, at each other. It gave them a false sense of power, as if they were somehow surrounding him, but truly only kept them from performing their powerful spells and attacks for fear of hurting each other.

Kaldur recognised the tactic.

He had come up with it.

"BY THE POWER OF THE TEMPEST!" Garth yelled, apparently growing tired of being careful while they were positioned in each other's line of fire. Kaldur tried to shout a warning, or an order, but something barrelled into the side of him and stole his words. Garth's spell sizzled the air right where Kaldur had just been standing, the buzz of energy lightly scalding his thick skin.

"Kaldur!" Tula called at the same time as Garth swore in Atlantean and spouted an apology.

Stunned, and slightly bruised by the abrupt impact to his ribs, Kaldur pushed himself onto his elbows and scanned the darkness. It was odd, but he was pretty damn sure that the shadow had just saved him from being fried by his own teammate.

But that made no sense.

Before he could ponder that thought further however - trying to decipher the dark blur that he thought that he had seen – the shadow capitalised on the distraction.

" _Ugh!"_ grunted Garth as something struck him from behind and dropped him to the ground, completely out cold.

"Garth!" Tula cried. Concern and frustration made her clench her fists and glare defiantly into the dark. Her eyes glowed with dangerous power as she called upon the energies that even the Atlanteans barely understood, the promise of retribution outlined in every tremor of her body.

"Tula – wait!" Kaldur called.

All at once, the rain stopped falling; fat droplets suspended in the air as if dangling from string. The blue energy crackling around Tula lit the harbour like the sun, the cold light of day revealing all.

"Face me coward!" Tula yelled in challenge.

There was no visible movement. No sound at all. Nothing but the fizzle of Tula's power and the heaviness of her breathing from strain and rage. And then there was a zapping sound and Tula froze, before she too crumpled and joined Garth in unconsciousness.

"Tula!" Kaldur shouted, reaching for her as if he could somehow catch her from where he was still collapsed on the ground. As she fell; before her spell broke and the rain remembered how to fall, the shadow was revealed standing behind her, weapon in hand. A slim figure, shrouded in black; hood pulled around a face hidden in shade.

Kaldur's eyes widened. "You? _Why?"_

The shadow hesitated, the motion only noticeable for a second before the darkness of the storm hid him from sight again.

And then a boot collided, hard, with the side of Kaldur's head, and the fight was lost.

* * *

**TWO MONTHS EARLIER**

"Aretheyhereyet?"

Artemis rolled her eyes and ignored the question asked at super-speed (for the fifty-seventh time) by her overexcited boyfriend. Wally didn't seem to mind, taking her response to mean 'no', before speeding off to ask M'gann (again) if he could have one, or twenty, of the cupcakes that she had baked especially. He received another (if more patient) 'no', and then the cycle started again.

"Don't even try it, Baywatch," Artemis cut him off sharply as he appeared beside where she was slouched on the green sofa. His jaw clacked audibly shut. "They will get here when they get here, and you asking every five seconds is not going to make that happen any faster."

The archer sighed heavily as Wally ran off again, sufficiently scolded. "And now I sound like my mother. Great."

The cave was decorated for a party; streamers and balloons dangling from every conceivable point and a huge banner emblazoned with the words 'WELCOME HOME' swaying precariously above the couch. M'gann was in charge of the food, with Connor's assistance, while Artemis had picked the playlist that would blast from the sound system just as soon as the guests of honour hurried up and made their appearance.

But they were late, and Wally wasn't the only one getting restless.

She couldn't believe that it had been a year since Rocket and Zatanna had first left for Thanagar. So much had happened since then, what with the kidnapping from Gotham Academy, the subsequent stay in a safe house; the attack on Happy Harbour High and the giants laying waste to Old Gotham... Yeah, they had a lot to get caught up on.

"What are they like?" Tula asked, breaking the quiet in their part of the cave. Behind them, in the kitchen, M'gann was still baking away and warding off Wally whenever he came close, so it wasn't exactly silent; but the suddenness of the question still caught the archer off-guard. "Rocket and Zatanna?"

"You never met them?" Artemis blinked, and then rolled her eyes at herself. _Duh_ , of course they hadn't. Tula had joined the team after Zatanna had left the second time, it just felt like the two Atlanteans had been with them longer than that. "Oh, um, they're cool. Zee's a great friend and well, Rocket wasn't here for very long before they left, but she and Kaldur got along pretty well."

Tula shifted a little at the mention of Kaldur, Artemis noted. Anyone who didn't know how smitten the red-head was with Garth might have read the action as jealousy, but the archer refrained from comment. "It is better to form your own opinions, I always find," Tula said diplomatically, if a little shortly. "I just always wondered why it was them that were chosen for the mission and not one of the older team members."

Artemis snorted a laugh, making Tula blink in surprise as she analysed what she must have said wrong. "Sorry," the archer said, shaking her head. "It's just that, _none_ of us were meant to go. We've all got lives and school and stuff – the League was highly against any of us getting involved in a galactic conflict."

Tula furrowed her brow. "Then why...?"

"Hawkwoman petitioned the League," Artemis explained. "It was supposed to just be over the summer, like a training program, but then Thanagar and Rann decided to go for all out war rather than the usual skirmishes and Rocket and Zee volunteered to stay."

"I'm sorry," Tula scrunched up her delicate elvin-like features in utter confusion. "I still do not understand why they went in the first place."

Artemis chewed her lip a moment. "Okay, this isn't official – just a theory that no one has denied – but the mission... it's supposed to be a fast track for joining the League. Shayera got irritated that the last round of new initiates were all guys again, outnumbering them even further – seriously, the amount of testosterone up there must be staggering – so she hand-picked a couple of girls from the team to train up especially for the League."

"I will never understand why the men of the surface struggle to see the strength of women," Tula said with a small smile. "In Atlantis, everyone knows that it is Queen Mera who is truly in charge."

Artemis chuckled quietly. "Yeah, well, a couple thousand years of misogyny doesn't just go away, I guess. But I think they're learning. Slowly."

Tula shrugged non-committally, her attention returning to the magazine that she was reading as part of her 'surface research'. A loud crash from the kitchen followed by M'gann's profuse apologies foretold of another possible baking disaster, while Connor 'assisted' as best he could. Wally hadn't returned since Artemis had snapped at him, but that probably just meant that he had found someone else to distract himself with. Maybe he had found Kaldur and Garth, who had yet to make an appearance at the slightly delayed welcome home party.

"So, how's it going with you and Kaldur?" Artemis asked without thinking.

Tula glanced up from her magazine, her expression defensive. "What do you mean by that?"

"I just meant..." Artemis searched for words as Tula continued to glare. "...what's it been like, working, together again?" No, that was absolutely not what she had meant, but what else could she say? She had slipped up – she had meant to say Garth, not Kaldur, as that was who Tula was _actually_ dating, but she had made a mistake. And it was an easy one really. Sure, it was obvious that Garth was head over heels for the red-headed Atlantean – but a blind man could see the way that Kaldur looked at her too.

It was causing some... _interesting_ social situations, to say the least. And a few close calls on missions as well, though nothing too serious to need mentioning.

"It's fine," Tula said. And that was the end of that.

Artemis shifted uncomfortably for a moment, before deciding to walk away from the awkwardness before it got any worse. Climbing to her feet with an easy smile so that it didn't look like she was totally running away, the archer shuffled off. She avoided the kitchen out of self-preservation, heading towards the main hanger to wait there instead.

"You're still following leads?" Black Canary's voice echoed from the corridor ahead. On instinct, Artemis stilled, her encroachment on the conversation remaining unannounced. She didn't intend to eavesdrop, she really didn't, but she also didn't want to interrupt either. And if she just so happened to overhear a little of the exchange before the right time to say say hello presented itself? Well, she didn't _mean_ to.

"Superman seems to think that the case is closed," Black Canary continued.

Batman bristled, and if Artemis didn't savour being intact so much, she would have sworn that the Dark Knight just rolled his eyes. "You and I both know that there are things that's don't add up. Ignoring a potential problem just because it is an inconvenience is idiotic, so yes. I am still on the case."

"This is going to be one of those things that comes back to bite us, isn't it?" Black Canary sighed and folded her arms across her chest. "Have you found anything new?"

Batman nodded. "There was definitely another person involved."

"Really? Who?"

"Unidentified right now," Batman replied, sounding irritated. "There was no way that Bane would willingly work with the likes of Hatter and Strange – someone _else_ had to be pulling their strings. And now I have proof."

Artemis shifted where she was hidden in the shadows further up the corridor, trying to get a look at whatever it was that Batman just pulled up on the holo-screen projected from his wrist to show Black Canary. But she was too far away and she huffed quietly in annoyance. She knew exactly what the two Leaguers were talking about – the attack on Happy Harbour High six months ago.

But it was also more personal than that.

The Mad Hatter, Jervis Tetch, had set his sights on Artemis as his new 'Alice'. The things that the madman wanted to use her for, what he dreamed of doing to her, it still made her shiver. It still kept her awake some nights.

If there was more to it than that, a bigger picture as to why she was targeted in _that_ way, then she had the right to know.

"Security footage from the building opposite of where Bane was found," Batman explained as Black Canary scrutinised the video. "I've had a program running to enhance the image, but there's nothing more than a blur. It can't even definitively identify whether the subject is male or female."

"You thinking it's a meta?"

"Or tech," Batman offered as he shut the projector down. "A disruptor could viably have the same affect."

Black Canary paused thoughtfully. "It's gotta be a heavy hitter to be able to get Bane to follow orders. One with one helluva grudge too."

"Or someone new," Batman added quietly, something flickering across his mostly-concealed features that made Artemis squint at him as she tried to translate. But it was gone without a trace in microseconds. "Either way, they're dangerous."

"Have you told Superman about what you've found?" Black Canary asked.

"Not as of yet," Batman shifted his stance, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest. On anybody else, it would have looked almost like a defensive gesture, but Artemis ruled that out. This was _Batman_ after all. "Not until I have something concrete. The immediate threat has been handled. There's no need to involve the League yet."

Black Canary studied Batman for a moment, trying to read him through the cowl. "This feels personal to you, doesn't it? That's why you can't let it go."

Batman made a non-committal noise and turned away, effectively shutting down that part of the conversation. Black Canary sighed, silence settling between the two Leaguers. Artemis realised that she wouldn't learn anymore, and it would be awkward to announce her presence now. Instead, she slid back the way that she had come, deciding to return to the lounge to wait out Zee and Rocket's arrival.

The whole walk her mind buzzed with what she had learned; more questions than answers crowding her brain. It unnerved her that the whole thing wasn't as over and done with as they had been led to believe, but it was also reassuring to know that someone (Batman, no less) was looking into it. It had never quite sat right with her, even with all the assurances Superman and the League had given them. There was always something niggling at her, an instinct warning her that all was not right.

Someone was still out there. Someone with the patience and intelligence to arrange a kidnapping from Gotham's most prestigious school and convince three villains to team-up. And that scared the crap out of her. But what Arty really didn't understand was _why?_

What was the _point?_

Things had been quiet for so long now, the League believing that they had won. But if they hadn't, and there was more to this plot, then what was this bad guy waiting for? And what was the endgame?

"Are they here _now?"_ Wally's voice whined, and Artemis glanced up to find that she had arrived back in the lounge. At some point, he, Garth and Kaldur must have joined the vigil, the whole gang now gathered around the couch in varying degrees of impatient, bored and irritable.

"No, Baywatch," Artemis answered sharply. "They're not-"

"Hiya!" a voice chirped from behind the archer's shoulder, making her whirl around.

Wally's exasperated yet happy ' _finally!'_ was lost in the background as Artemis turned and found Zatanna standing there, grinning broadly. "Zee!"

"Arty!" the mistress of magic replied, the two friends colliding in a hug. Six months was a long time to not see her best friend, so Artemis wasted no embarrassment from the display of affection as Zatanna began babbling about her adventures on Thanagar.

Rocket snorted from where she had appeared in the doorway behind them. "And what am I? Chopped liver?"

Kaldur stood from where he had been waiting on the couch, offering Rocket a hug in greeting before stepping back and introducing Garth and Tula. "Wow, nice to meet you," Rocket smiled. "I guess I'm not the newbie anymore, huh?"

Soon, everyone was talking as stories were swapped and tales shared; Artemis grinning and laughing along with everyone else. And then Zatanna sidled up to her in a quiet moment, looking worried.

"So, uh... where's Robin?"

* * *

The music blasted loud in Barbara's ears, but she wasn't really listening to it. The heavy beat was purely to keep her in time as she ran through the routine that Dick had worked out with her as part of her training. She needed to streamline her grappling ability, apparently. Learning the right way to swing, twist and change direction would make her faster and cut down her travel time, which was why he had decided to put her through her paces on the uneven bars.

Her background was in ballet, not gymnastics. She had never done anything beyond high school gym class up until a few months ago, which was probably why Dick was pushing her harder in that regard than in actual fight training. She had been taking self defence classes since she could walk and was close to getting her black belt in judo, but as Dick liked to tell her; sometimes it was more important to _avoid_ a hit than it was about landing one.

Initially, that way of thinking had irked her. What was the point of being a vigilante after all if you weren't there to beat up the bad guys? But now she understood. One punch with super-strength behind it could end a fight with her on the losing side. Agility and intelligence were Robin's strongest weapons, and they would be hers too. Just as soon as she learnt to stick the landing.

"Nicely done," a voice called from her left, audible where she had accidentally yanked an earbud free. "Did you mean to land on your face though?"

Barbara pushed herself up from where she had landed awkwardly on the mat, and turned to glare at her audience. Jason Todd grinned back at her, curled up on Batman's high-backed chair with a bag of popcorn propped between his knees. She had no idea when the pre-teen had sauntered into the cave (which was probably why Dick told her not to train with her earphones in) but it was clear that he had witnessed the spectacular fail that had been her dismount.

"I'd like to see you do better," she grumbled irritably as she clambered to her feet. Jason's eyes immediately lit up as he dropped his snack and practically sprinted to the mat, eager to have a go. Barbara watched in mild amusement as the twelve-year-old took a running jump to grab the bar, performed a couple of accidental chin-ups before falling into a forward roll and landing flat-backed on the mat.

"It's not as easy at it looks," he grumbled as Barbara tried and failed to stifle her laugh.

"And it looks easy now, does it?" she retorted.

Jason shrugged, his cheeks colouring red. "It does when Dick-face does it."

Barbara had to concede to that. She remembered being crazy jealous of her best friend the first time that she had seen him casually mess around on the gym equipment. It always just looked so effortless and natural for him; more of a fun time than a workout. But she had also seen him train for real, and the amount of focus and work that he put into making sure that his crazy acrobatic moves looked easy. "Yeah, well, he was born and raised doing this. When _you_ can perform a flawless backwards somersault, _that_ will be the real miracle."

"You really think he'd train me too?"

Barbara froze, realising just what she had said and its implications. Jason was looking at her with such an open, hopeful expression that she didn't quite know how to backtrack without shattering it. "Um, I don't know, Jay... I mean, maybe he'd show you some moves... you know, acrobatics or whatever... not anything-"

"'Cool'?" Jason finished for her, looking disappointed. He clambered upright from where he had landed and shuffled backwards to lean against the bar. "No crime fighting moves or any of the Bat-stuff, right? I'm not good enough?"

"Jay..."

"Nah, I get it," the boy shrugged, trying to make it look like he didn't care. Barbara sighed, recognising the defensive tactic. "It's not like I wanted to be a hero, or whatever. That's not my scene. Like, at all." His blue eyes dropped to the carpet. "It's just... everyone else in this family..."

Barbara understood completely. Being adopted into a lifestyle as far removed from the one that he had always known was intimidating enough as it was. But then when you throw in the top secret vigilante side-gig? That's gotta be hard. How could you comfortably be a part of a unit that purposely shut you out of half of what made them a family? "Look, Jay," Barbara said, dropping to a crouch before the kid. "You need to talk to Bruce about this; or at the very least, Dick-"

"How can I when they're never here?!" Jason snapped. "I see _you_ more often than I see Dick-face and you don't even live here!"

"That's not tr..." Barbara trailed off as she really thought about it. She saw Dick all the time at school, but as Jason was being home-schooled by Alfred at the moment to cover the gap in his education, obviously he wouldn't see his new big brother as often. And Bruce? Well, she saw Batman all the time on patrol (from a distance, of course, lest he remind her yet again that he didn't exactly approve of her nightly activities) but at the manor? Actually, she hadn't seen Bruce outside of mandatory social functions for a few months now.

But it was the weekend. And daytime. Bruce shouldn't have to be at Wayne Tech and definitely shouldn't be out on patrol as the Bat. And Dick... Well, Dick should be right there, helping Barbara train just like he had said he would.

"Dick had to meet up with the team today, but I'm sure he'll be home tomorrow," Barbara said instead, trying to sound reassuring. The pre-teen snorted derisively. "Look, I'll send him a text-"

"Don't bother," Jason cut her off and stood. "He's at the super-secret clubhouse for some stupid party for his stupid girlfriend. I don't need him anyway."

And with that, he stormed off back up and into the manor, leaving a very worried and increasingly confused Barbara behind.

" _Girlfriend_?"

* * *

"And I just killed you."

Robin glared at the hilt of the blade currently levelled at his throat, and then up at the person wielding it. Lady Shiva stared back, unyielding. "What did you do wrong?"

"I dropped my guard," Robin answered, knowing that the sword would not be lowered until he had acknowledged his mistakes. He would never be allowed to make the same one twice. Shiva raised an eyebrow, the edge of the blade pressing close enough to nick the exposed skin of his neck. "And I lost my footing."

The sword lowered, leaving only a trickle of blood in its wake. Robin brushed it away with the back of his hand, determining it to be no worse than a shaving cut – which would make a perfectly plausible excuse if anyone chose to ask how he got it. Not that anyone did, these days.

They were in a dojo of a sports centre in the Eastern Quarter of Gotham that had long since closed down, which was where Robin seemed to spend most of his evenings and weekends recently. Modifications had been made to the interior to suit Shiva's tastes and needs, but from the outside, the place still appeared abandoned. Inside, the lights were low to keep everything shrouded in the shadows that Shiva wielded like weapons in their own right.

They both wore loose work out clothes, a black tee and sweats for Robin and what looked like a yoga outfit for Shiva. There was no need for masks – that ship had long since sailed – and no armour either. Apparently, Robin wouldn't _learn_ when he couldn't feel the full consequences of his mistakes.

Robin watched his teacher warily as she returned the sword to its place on the weapon's rack ( _that_ had definitely not been part of the gym's original design) and stepped back to choose what to 'train' him with next.

"You're distracted," Shiva announced, her gaze meeting Robin's as she studied him for a moment. "Ah, yes. Today is the day that the magician girl returns home, is it not?"

Robin hadn't told her about Zee and Rocket's homecoming, or the party that he had ditched in order to hold up his end of the deal, but he had long since learned not to be surprised that his new mentor knew everything. She was frighteningly similar to Batman in that way, and Robin cringed at the parallel, even as he was also mildly comforted by it. It was nice to know that someone still paid enough attention to realise that something was upsetting him. He doubted that Bruce had even noticed, as distracted as he had been lately with Jason.

"Have the pair of you spoken since the break up?" Shiva asked. A part of Robin knew that she was just fishing, always on the lookout for changes and weaknesses in her protégé (to exploit or fix, he never could tell) but she always sounded so genuine whenever she asked him about his life. And she always seemed interested in whatever he had to say.

It made lying to her _really_ hard.

"A few times," he answered honestly. "She's not mad at me anymore, which is good, I guess. But I still feel so guilty. I mean, I was the one that drove her to Strange. If I had just _talked_ to her instead of trying to ignore the problem until it went away, then maybe she wouldn't have been so susceptible. The whole thing was my fault, and yet she's the one that now can't trust herself with secrets and it's it just... It's messed up. And I don't know how to face her."

Shiva looked thoughtful for a moment, and then reached out to gently squeeze Robin's shoulder. Initially, he flinched, expecting an attack. But then he stilled and relaxed, needing the reassurance of the gesture. "Dwelling on past mistakes isn't helpful, unless it stops you from repeating them. She's moved on, you should move on too."

"Yeah," Robin muttered with a shrug. "I guess."

Shiva nodded, and then swept his legs out from under him. Completely unprepared, Robin landed hard on his back, his skull bouncing off the mat with enough force to make his ears ring.

"You never know when an enemy may attack. Never let your guard down," Shiva instructed from where she loomed above him. "That is a mistake that you will never make again."

Robin gritted his teeth and nodded. "Yes, teacher."


	2. Part Two

Batgirl and Robin, sitting in a tree... most definitely _not_ K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

In fact, sitting in a tree isn't half as romantic as the nursery rhyme would have you believe. It was uncomfortable and cramped and Batgirl was pretty damn sure that she was getting splinters even through her tights; all of which was making her regret picking said giant oak tree as their stakeout point. As she shifted yet again to try and spread the pain evenly between butt cheeks, she glanced over at Robin.

Typically, the Boy Wonder looked entirely chilled and perfectly at home perched on a branch.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence of their vigil. He lowered his binoculars and gestured around them. The oak that was providing their five star seating arrangement was situated in Robinson Park, a once posh green for Gotham's local elite to take their trust fund kids. Before a new tenant had moved in, that is. "I mean, it isn't exactly Ivy's M.O to cause trouble like this."

"And turning a park into a dangerous jungle isn't 'causing trouble'?" Batgirl retorted. Literally three metres ahead of them was the thick foliage of Poison Ivy's territory; the sheer mass of exotic flora acting as a barrier between her garden and the outside world of humans. If it weren't for the infrared and thermal imaging capabilities of their binoculars, they wouldn't have even been able to see anything beyond a wall of green. As it was, they were having a hard time spotting any activity even with the tech.

"I'm just saying, Ivy doesn't really leave her zone," Robin shrugged. "Except that one time with the Injustice League, but I'm pretty sure that was just because they helped her grow giant man-eating plants. Otherwise, she's pretty harmless. _Unless_ you're dumb enough to take a stroll through her part of the park, that is."

Batgirl sighed irritably, adjusting her position again as the rough bark bit at her legs. "The GCPD has reported _twelve_ separate attacks in Robinsville over the past two weeks, and that's not counting the local missing persons reports going back at least two years. Witnesses never saw anyone, but forensics found traces of chlorophyll at every scene. Poison Ivy is the main suspect. Even Bats thinks so."

Robin raised an eyebrow.

"I might have used the computer the last time that I was at the cave," Batgirl admitted sheepishly. "I was just looking up Ivy's file, but then it linked onto this case so I read his notes."

"Bats told you not to get involved until you've had more training," Robin scolded half-heartedly. There was no bite behind the words, just a kind of tired acceptance that Batgirl would do whatever she felt was right. He wanted to protect her, and she was touched by that, but he also understood that she was capable and strong-willed; and that telling her not to do something was like waving a red flag to a bull. "He's already mad that you've been patrolling solo, let alone getting involved in _another_ case."

"This one's a low priority, I checked," she answered. "This isn't like the Hatter case. The file was pretty thin; nothing more than the forensics report and his early suspicions. Besides, he's more occupied with some mysterious new person. _That_ file was triple-encrypted."

Robin sat up a little straighter, his hand flying to his ribs as he winced.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he replied with an easy smile, gingerly rubbing the tender spot. "Just a bruise from training earlier. You've gotta expect a few when you're pitted against Artemis."

Batgirl threw him a sideways look. "Training?" she asked leadingly, remembering Jason's words from earlier. "I thought that it was supposed to be a party?"

"Uh, yeah, it was," Robin said quickly, before shrugging and smiling again as he leaned back against the tree trunk. "The guests of honour were a bit late though, so BC turned it into an impromptu training session to pass the time before they arrived. You never know when your enemy will attack after all."

Batgirl watched her partner carefully for a moment as he stifled a yawn, wishing that she could see if his smile reached his eyes. They weren't together, the two of them, despite the signs at the beginning of her tenure as Batgirl. Something _changed,_ early on. They were just friends. As Barbara and Dick they had been for a long time, and she was fine with that, but she didn't really understand what it was that had made him back off. Though now, perhaps, she did. "Was it good to see your girlfriend again?"

Robin looked utterly confused. "Girlfriend?" he blinked. "You mean Zee? We're not together. We uh, broke up a while ago."

"Oh." Well now she felt dumb. Getting worked up over a girlfriend that didn't exist. Jeez, how irrational was it to be jealous of someone that you'd never even met for liking a boy that you weren't even with? Admittedly, though, she couldn't help but feel a little pleased that Robin was indeed single (she hadn't been able to think of him quite as platonically as she once had for a while now). But if another girl wasn't the reason for his romantic distance from her, then what was?

And actually, what about his distance from Jason too?

"You need to talk to your brother, by the way," Batgirl announced suddenly, throwing Robin completely off-kilter with the non sequitur. Probably calling Jason his 'brother' hadn't helped – he had only had a sibling for six months, after all – but by their own rules there were no names in the field. What was she supposed to call him; Robin Junior?

"What?"

"Your brother. You need to talk to him," Batgirl repeated, slowly for emphasis. Robin just scowled at her. "I saw him at the cave today. He needs his big brother, so talk to him."

"Uh, okay," Robin said, still looking confused. He yawned again and jokingly stretched his legs and made as if to climb down from the tree. "Right now?"

Batgirl punched him playfully in the arm. "No dumbass. Tomorrow, after you've _slept_."

Robin smiled back at her, grinning through a yawn.

* * *

It was a test. And he was failing.

Sleep hadn't happened.

He was so tired. Everything felt heavy; his body almost alien to him in its sluggishness. He couldn't remember the last time that he had ate, and he definitely didn't know when the last time that he had properly slept was. It wasn't even daylight yet, the long patrol with Batgirl ending in the Eastern Quarter so that he could slink off to Shiva's gym without arousing suspicion. There wasn't even a fitful catnap in between like he could fit in most Saturday nights, and Robin was running on empty.

The blindfold was tight around his face, cutting out all light in the already dimly lit dojo. Usually, this wouldn't be an issue for him – he was a Bat, after all. He was trained to fight in the darkness of the night – but now the blackness was so absolute. And his other senses were far from reliable.

The acoustics of the high-ceilinged dojo were fantastic, reverberating every echo of movement right back at him. If it were one assailant, or even just a few, he would have been fine. But it wasn't. It was at least ten, maybe more – he had been blindfolded before they had appeared, and were just as light on their feet as Shiva. They made barely a sound, any scuffs or breaths to give them away mixed up and distorted in the rafters – he had only guessed their number from the hits that he was taking.

It was a lot of hits.

The sparring match had rapidly devolved into more of a playground brawl. Robin was still on his feet – just – which was a testament to Shiva's training. His arms were up in a close guard and his body hunched to make him as smaller target as possible. He twisted out of holds before they could lock and danced out of reach as much as he could; all the time feeling Shiva's critical eyes follow his every move.

And then a leg sweep wiped him out, the fight lost with the finality of the slap of his back against the mat.

But the Hand of Cain don't know mercy.

A foot collided hard with already tender ribs. A fist pummelled against arms bruised from trying to protect his face. And those were just the hits that he could distinguish from the seemingly hundreds raining down from above.

It had been a long time since he had taken a beating like this. He was supposed to be faster; more agile, more _skilled_. But he had been too slow – exhaustion will do that to you. The handicap of the blindfold had been too much for him to counter. Shiva wouldn't accept the excuses, and she wouldn't tolerate weakness. He had failed and this was it and...

 _Damn._ What would Bruce say when his bruised and beaten body washed up in the East River? Would he have even noticed that Dick had gone missing in the first place? Would he accept whatever story Shiva wove, or would he dig deeper. Maybe he would find out the truth. Protect the team and the League where Robin had failed. Maybe he would find a way to end this...

"Enough."

The beating stopped instantly, leaving Robin numb and in shock as the Hand of Cain vanished from the dojo with barely a whisper of movement. Shaking slightly from leftover adrenaline, Robin lay still curled protectively on his side, still tensed and waiting for another hit. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. And it _really_ hurt to think.

He was so damned _tired._

A shadow crouched down behind him before delicate fingers deftly untied the knot of the blindfold and tugged it away. The red light of dawn streaming through the windows made his sensitive eyes water as he squeezed them shut again in pain.

"That was very disappointing, Robin," Shiva admonished. Her voice was lightly scolding with something softer underlying it, the tone so familiar to his sleep deprived mind. He couldn't help the pang of shame that ran through him at her words anymore than he could understand it. Logically, he _knew_ that her opinion shouldn't matter. She was his jailer, controlling him with blackmail. She threatened the lives of his friends and family – he should _want_ to undermine and thwart her at every turn.

But it was getting more and more difficult to hold into to that distrustful instinct.

Her fingers gently combed his bangs back from his forehead before resting lightly on his shoulder. He still hadn't shifted from where he had fallen, mentally cataloguing the new injuries that he would need to hide before he even dared to test out movement. "You clung to survival right up until the end," Shiva noted thoughtfully. "But then the fight left you. Why?"

Robin opened his eyes and tentatively tested his split lip with his tongue. A bitter image of Bruce, hidden behind the indifferent mask of the cowl, finally realising that Shiva's intricate plan wasn't as over and done with as the League believed. The brief relief that he had felt when perhaps the burden of keeping secrets and telling lies might no longer be his to bear... "I thought it was over."

Shiva smiled, he could hear it in her voice even without looking up at her. "I wouldn't let you die, my little Robin. I'm not cruel." Her hand lifted to his hair again, brushing it gently; almost possessively. "I am here to teach you. How can you learn to be stronger if I punish weakness with death?"

Robin shrugged, which was a stupid thing to do considering that it pulled sharply at his bruises. The wince didn't go unnoticed.

"Come now, Robin," Shiva sighed and climbed to her feet, expecting to be followed. "You are exhausted. Let's have some tea."

Now, the first time that the offer of tea had been made, Robin had only just started his training. His obedience had been more forcefully demanded with threats to the Kent Farm or warnings of how dangerous being a reporter in Central City could be. He had been beaten more often than he had been taught, and lectures of his weaknesses or lacking skills had made up 90% of the conversation.

So when a break from that had been propositioned, it had come completely out of left field.

"Tea?" Robin had asked incredulously.

"Yes, Robin. _Tea,"_ Shiva had rolled her eyes. "It is a hot beverage of enthused tea leaves and water. Americans. So uncivilised."

At her instructions they had knelt on opposite sides of a low table as Shiva poured them each a cup, Robin apprehensively studying her every move. The brew smelled pleasant enough, but as he took his cup (out of Alfred's ingrained politeness more than anything else) his nose had wrinkled. "What is that?"

"It is _tea_ , Robin," Shiva replied. "We have established this."

"It's _green."_

"It's _herbal_ tea."

"What _kind_ of herbal?"

Shiva had glared, patience drained entirely. "You are being very rude, Robin. I do not tolerate rudeness. If you must know the tea's contents, then _ask politely,"_ she chastised. "It is a family recipe, passed down from my mother who learned it from hers. It is a blend of ginseng and chamomile; to promote clear focus and alleviate the cumbersome aches of the mortal body. It allows one to train harder, faster and longer so that one can become the very best and I would _appreciate_ it if you would not insult it for it's _colour."_

"Uh... sorry?" Robin had said once the speech was done. It had been the first time that he had apologised to her. And the moment that things had changed.

"Forgiven," Shiva had nodded. "Now drink."

True to her word, the tea had helped. Bruises earned through sparring faded quicker and only ached with an odd, dull numbness. And the exhaustion; the bone deep tiredness borne of holding together the growing web of lies, was temporarily forgotten. And so tea and, initially stilted, conversation had become a part of the routine.

That morning, the blind beating from the ten-plus Hand of Cain assassins had left Robin less than inclined to move. But as he had sensed Shiva stand and move on, he forced himself to his hands and knees. With less grace than a newborn fawn he dragged himself to his feet and staggered along behind her. Every step was agony, and folding himself back to kneel down was an exercise in pain. But soon the tea was working through his system and the beating became an experience to learn from.

"You should not allow yourself to become this weak," Shiva pointed out as she sipped her tea. "You are a warrior, and a warrior does not know when they will be called upon to fight. You must always be ready." She looked at him knowingly over the rim of her cup. "And that means taking care of yourself. Eat right. Sleep right. And your body will not betray you next time."

Robin's gaze dropped to the table top. That was advice easier to say than to follow. Since Christmas, and if he were being honest with himself probably even before then, he had been having trouble with those basic rules. Sleep was hard to come by when pressure seemed to build with every day and everything was just becoming so complicated. And remembering to eat (an admittedly more recent development) like a normal growing teenager just seemed so unimportant in comparison.

He was going downhill, fast. The lying. The double... no, _triple_ life was too much to fit into day. He put all of the spare energy that he had in to hiding it from the ones that he was fighting to protect; a new mask that he had almost perfected. But that didn't stop a small part of him from wanting them to notice. He didn't want to drag anyone else into this mess, but at the same time, he knew that he needed help. How else was this to end?

The lies were believed. The stories accepted. No one noticed the cracks in the mask.

Except Shiva.

* * *

The ocean never failed to put things in perspective. For a little while, at least.

It's huge expanse made everything else pale in comparison, its waters covering most of the planet and supporting the rest. It's depths were so vast that not even the sea dwellers knew all of it's mysteries, the secrets and stories yet to be told. Huge behemoths and microscopic plankton and everything in between relied upon it for life; the ocean responsible for so many.

Ultimately, it didn't care that Kaldur's one true love was dating his best friend. The tattered state of his heart was insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Or at least, that is what the Atlantean told himself on a regular basis as he called upon the ocean for strength. Maybe if he could believe the mantra then perhaps the slow torture of watching their love grow every day wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe if he could accept his role as a spectator rather than a participant he would be able to think straight every time that Tula walked into a room. Maybe the bitterness wouldn't fester.

And the training dummy wouldn't be taking the brunt of it.

"Are you trying to take that thing's head off?" Artemis asked from where she was performing her own warm-up exercises. She spun a neat roundhouse kick that connected with enough force to seriously concuss a live opponent and settled back into a ready position. "Something on your mind?"

Kaldur eased up on the abuse of his stuffed victim, noticing for the first time that his knuckles were sore and he was breathing like a fish out of water. He glanced around to see if anyone else had witnessed his less than controlled fighting technique, but it was just the two of them in the training room right then. Connor and M'gann were enjoying a rare Sunday morning lie in as training didn't officially start until eleven. Zatanna and Rocket were being debriefed before starting their leave to recuperate, and Tula and Garth...

Well. They had spent the night together in Poseidonis. And Kaldur was trying _very_ hard not to think about that.

"No," he answered belatedly. He looked up to find Artemis looking at him in concern for a moment, before nodding to herself and continuing her assault. He watched as she performed a series of alternating jabs and crosses with increasing ferocity; finishing with a side kick that buckled the dummy in half at the waist. Kaldur raised an eyebrow as she straightened the mannequin back up again with an uppercut that would have broken it's jaw. "Something on _your_ mind?"

Artemis flexed her hands. "Nope."

Kaldur scoffed lightly to himself and returned his attention to his dummy. Taking a deep, calming breath, he ran through his routine with a little more grace than before. The rhythmic thud of flesh against padding provided background noise for his thoughts, allowing his mind to wander.

Something had changed among the team, he knew. Ever since the Christmas break, the dynamics had changed; which was to be expected, he guessed, what with the addition of new team members, but it seemed to be so much more than that. It had become unusual for everyone to show up for a training session, and even rarer for them all to arrive on time. They were deployed on fewer missions than before; the League wanting to protect them while recent events stayed in vivid memory. Things were quieter – there was less laughter... they didn't _talk_ like they used to.

It was wrong.

"An exchange," Kaldur offered, slowing down his routine and meeting Artemis' eyes over the shoulder of his dummy. She looked confused for a second, before smirking.

"You mean, 'I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours'?" she asked with a roll of her eyes, punctuating the question with a right-cross. Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she continued. "I don't know, Kal. That sounds an awful lot like a conversation."

Kaldur gave her a small smile. "That was the intention."

They both paused in their warm-ups for a moment and locked gazes, sharing a look that spoke more than had probably been said since Christmas. Kaldur wasn't the only one that had noticed the growing distance.

Artemis sighed and ran a hand through her ponytail, deciding to take the plunge. "Wally wants to go to college."

Kaldur nodded, though he didn't quite understand the implication. In Atlantis, there was simply the Academy, which was mandatory unless you were selected by the King to join his fight on the surface. Going away to college was an issue that didn't really exist; though he more than understood that people (and relationships) could change in one's absence. But that didn't seem to be the problem.

"And he wants me to go to college _with_ him." Artemis added. She shrugged and sighed again. "I hadn't even really thought about it. I figured I'd just, I don't know, get a day job or something and focus on the whole vigilante thing, but Wally... He's smarter than me. He was always gonna go to college. It hasn't even occurred to him that some people don't want to stay in education longer than necessary. And whenever we talk about it..."

"Morning!" M'gann called brightly as she and Connor made their appearance. Artemis had instantly fallen silent, resuming her exercise as if nothing had been said. If the Martian happened to read the slightly tense atmosphere then she didn't acknowledge it, instead continuing to grin as she approached Kaldur. Connor walked up to Artemis and offered to spar with her, the pair of them taking to the mat.

M'gann looked around. "Is it just us this morning?"

"It would appear that way," Kaldur answered. He didn't miss the worried expression that briefly marred the green girl's features. "Black Canary should be here soon."

_Recognised: Robin, B01. Kid Flash, B04._

"What were you doing in Gotham anyway?" Robin's mildly irritated voice reached them before the zeta beam glow had faded, depositing the two teenagers in the cave. He glared up at the now only slightly taller redhead who simply shrugged in response.

"Making sure that you were gonna turn up for a training session for once," Wally retorted. He sounded equally as annoyed, but there was a frown furrowing his expression that spoke only of concern. "Where were _you?_ I waited at your house for ages. Even Alf didn't know where you had gone."

Robin flushed a little and crossed his arms defensively. "I crashed at Babs' place by accident. Patrol ran a little longer than expected."

Wally snorted a laugh at the unexpected answer. "What?" he scoffed, and then ruffled Robin's already mussed up hair. "You dog!"

"Morning!" M'gann greeted with even more cheer than before, actually levitating a little in excitement. She tackled the pair of them in a hug that took them both by surprise, before letting Wally go and turning her attention onto Robin. "We missed you at the party yesterday, Dick. Is everything okay?"

Kaldur watched Wally wander over to where Artemis and Connor had paused in their sparring, the speedster dropping a kiss on the archer's cheek without a clue as to why she was thrumming with carefully contained tension. He glanced back to see Robin grace M'gann with a blinding smile.

"Yeah, yeah, it's all good," Robin shrugged, before the grin turned sheepish. "I was helping Batgirl with her training and just lost track of the time. How are Zee and Rocket?"

For the first time in a long time, the cave was filled with chatter as M'gann gave Robin the full recap and the others joined in with their two cents. It was pleasant, with just the six of them hanging together. For a little while, at least, it was easy to believe that nothing had changed. If Kaldur noticed the gap between Artemis and Wally then he chose not to mention it. And if Artemis realised his malcontent in return, then he chose to ignore it.

And if Robin's smile seemed just a little... glassy... then it was just a trick of the light.

* * *

"Are you not hungry, Master Richard?"

Dick caught himself from jumping at the sudden question just in time. He met the butler's gaze levelly and smiled politely. "Sorry, Alfie, I've not long had lunch. Training ran over at the cave."

It was a lie, of course. Like most things that came out of his mouth these days. He had eaten half a sandwich when the team had broken for lunch, and when asked then why he wasn't hungry he had claimed that he had had a big breakfast at Barbara's house. He just couldn't stomach the thought of food right then. He felt so heavy, _all_ of the time. Adding to that weight, even with something as necessary as food, it just made him feel sick.

The only thing that he had kept down that day was Shiva's tea. And that wasn't working so good anymore.

The bruises from their session that morning throbbed with a new vengeance, his left arm pressing protectively to his ribs even as he told himself not to draw attention to the pain. With the extra bruises earned from training with the team and the severe lack of sleep catching up with him, all he wanted to do was to go to bed and pretend that he didn't exist for a while.

But instead he was sat to dinner with his family, pushing sickly green peas around his plate while pretending that everything was okay.

Alfred frowned at Dick's lack of appetite, but didn't question it any further. Even Bruce looked mildly concerned for a moment, before accepting the excuse and continuing with his own meal.

"How were your lessons today, Jason?" Bruce asked.

Dick looked up from his plate, that was making him feel ill anyway, and focused on the boy sitting across from him. Jason shrunk a little under the attention and picked up his drink for something to hide behind, his voice lost into the depths of his glass as he muttered irritably, "Math sucks."

"Master Jason," Alfred scolded.

Jason sunk even lower, glancing sideways at the butler apologetically. "I mean, math is _difficult."_

For a brief, guilty moment, Dick couldn't help but feel a little smug. It was no secret that there was a rather large gap in Jason's education; what with his former life being more about _surviving_ than _living._ But as had been reiterated in their past family dinners, Jason was progressing well under Alfred's tutelage. He was smart, and picked things up quickly (just like Dick did, once upon a time) and it looked like he might not be held behind a few grades when he eventually attended school as they had first assumed.

But math was Dick's thing, as stupid and petty as that sounded. The fact that he was smart, and picked things up quickly, and had ultimately been skipped _ahead_ a grade because of that affinity for numbers was something that made him different. Special. Bruce had been proud of that once.

Alfred nodded at Jason's correction. "Much better, sir."

Jason was looking to Bruce though, head slightly bowed and expression hesitant as he sought out his new father-figure's opinion on his failure. Dick recognised the look and immediately felt bad for his jealous thoughts even as he couldn't completely shake them.

"You'll just have to work harder," was all Bruce said, though he smiled as Jason as he did.

"I could help with that," Dick found himself offering, drawing all eyes back to him. He shifted uncomfortably, successfully burying a wince before it could be noticed. "With tutoring, I mean."

Jason's stare hardened defensively, and Dick realised that he wasn't the only that had noticed that the two of them had been compared a lot recently. Just as it wasn't easy for Dick to hear that his new younger brother was potentially as smart as him, it couldn't be easy for Jason to be constantly measured against him. Having siblings sure was a learning curve.

Dick offered Jason an easy smile. "Math, I get," he said with a shrug, before his tone turned self-deprecating. "It's English I struggle with. My handwriting is atrocious and I can't spell for anything. You should see some of my essays."

"Really?" Jason asked, looking to Bruce and Alfred for confirmation. "You're not just saying that?"

Bruce smiled at his youngest reassuringly. "Why do you think he types everything?"

Dick shot Bruce a glare for that one, feeling more hurt by the words than he cared to admit. But he buried the brief resentment deep along with everything else and turned his own carefully sculpted mask on Jason. He remembered Barbara's advice that he needed to talk to his little brother and focused on that instead, watching for the signs of whatever it was that had worried her. A few hurt feelings were worth it to see the genuine smile on Jason's face.

* * *

It was several hours later before Dick was finally able to drag himself off to bed, and sleep still wouldn't grace him with it's relief.

He was exhausted. He could feel it in every bone and muscle like a weary ache, but no matter how he tried he just couldn't drop off to the land of nod. His frazzled brain simply would not switch off, as preoccupied as it was with going over every detail of the day.

With keeping straight every lie.

He would have to make sure that Wally didn't speak to Barbara any time soon, just in case the non-existent sleepover was mentioned. And the fact that Dick was supposed to be with her when he missed the party... or was he at the party when he missed her training session? And Alfred. What had he told Alfred when the butler had asked where he was that morning? He must have said he was with Barbara... right...?

Dick groaned and rolled over, allowing himself a small whimper of pain as his abused ribs protested the movement. He needed to sleep.

What was it Shiva had said? Take care of yourself and your body won't betray you? Yeah, well, it was his body that refused to co-operate. He tried to eat properly, he really did. He knew how important nutrition was to staying strong (and you know, _alive_ , though that didn't seem as important). And damn if he didn't try to sleep. But he was overtired and anxious and short of a _sedative_ there was no way that he was ever going to pass out.

But he _needed_ to sleep.

Whatever it took.


	3. Part Three

He didn't know how it happened.

He fell asleep. Right when he really didn't want to. It was just typical really; the fact that he was on day five since his last twenty minute catnap and despite all of his best efforts he had failed to close his eyes. But ten minutes into Geography (or was it History? Ah dammit, he didn't even know what class he was in) and Dick Grayson was out like a light. Sprawled across his desk, face smushed against his textbook and jeez, he prayed to every deity that he could think of that he wasn't snoring. Please, give him that small mercy.

A loud bang had him shooting upright and hurriedly trying to orientate himself.

"Glad you could join us, Mr Grayson," Mrs Alcott, his _English_ teacher greeted him. And wasn't that just another kick in the teeth? His one, single, consistently C-grade subject, and he had been caught sleeping in class. _Great._

With a mildly concerned look, Mrs Alcott turned and headed back up to the whiteboard to continue the lesson, and Dick took a moment to try and wake himself up. He glanced down at his textbook (his geography textbook... he didn't even have the right books for class) and thanked those deities that at the very least he hadn't drooled. And then he looked up to find Devon Wynters smirking at him.

The jock elbowed his buddy and jerked his head at Dick, intentionally raising his voice from the conspiratorial whisper that it was pretending to be. "I would'a thought the boy toy would be less tired now," he announced with a grin. "What with ol' Brucie Wayne replacing him with a _younger_ model."

Well, at least it was more original than 'Circus Brat'.

Dick tried to ignore the giggles that followed the slur, but it was more self control than his sleep deprived body currently possessed. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and curled his hands into fists, struggling not to act on the impulse to punch Devon right in his smug jaw. It wasn't even the implication about his relationship with Bruce that got him so angry; he'd been dealing with that sick assumption for years. It was the way that Devon had bought Jason into it, a twelve-year-old that Dick at least _hoped_ knew nothing about paedophilia, that was making the vigilante's blood boil.

Mrs Alcott regained control of the class and continued her lecture on whatever it was that they were supposed to be studying, but Dick couldn't bring himself to concentrate. He was tired and grouchy and frustrated – angry at Devon's wisecrack, irritated at the fact that his first five minutes of sleep in nearly a week had been interrupted, _worried_ about what would happen if Mrs Alcott decided to report his unscheduled nap to Bruce...

It was third period on Wednesday, smack bang in the middle of the week. And all Dick wanted to do was to go back to that blissfully dark emptiness of sleep.

When the bell finally rang twenty minutes later for lunch, Dick took his time packing away. It was simply too much effort to convince himself to move any faster – the brief nap having done nothing to alleviate the weight on his limbs – and it wasn't like he was hungry either. Over the din of twenty-odd students hurriedly packing up, Mrs Alcott tried to yell about the importance of revision for the upcoming exams, before her gaze settled squarely on Dick. "Can I speak to you for a moment, Richard?"

Reluctantly, Dick dragged himself to his feet and slung his backpack over his shoulder, feeling as if he were walking the green mile down to her desk. "Yes ma'am?"

"How's your understanding of the course material this year, Richard?" she asked; which sounded like a very roundabout way of saying _'have you listened to a single word I've said?'._ Considering that Dick wasn't 100% sure what the course material even was, he decided to go with a lie.

"Good," he shrugged.

Mrs Alcott pursed her lips, clearly not buying his bull crap. Funny. Everyone else seemed to.

She studied him for a moment, before turning and collecting something from her desk and handing it to him. It was his last homework assignment – handed in late and less than an A4 page of scrawled reflection on some poem that they had studied in class. Admittedly, it wasn't overly legible, but Dick had used Barbara's notes to write it, so he figured that it should have warranted just a little more than the bright red and heavily circled ' **F** ' on the top corner.

"You are failing my class, Richard," Mrs Alcott explained.

Dick blinked in surprise and frowned. "For one assignment?!"

"For the _eight_ assignments that you have actually managed to hand in," the teacher retorted, picking up the stack of papers in question and flicking through the steadily decreasing grades marring the sheets. She sighed heavily and dropped the reports. "This is not like you, Richard. Falling asleep in class, failing to complete homework... do you even know what it is that we are studying for the exam next week?"

Dick glanced at the whiteboard, but the savvy teacher had already wiped the lecture notes from it, leaving him without a clue to go on. Wisely, he stayed quiet.

Mrs Alcott shook her head in disappointment. "I understand that English has never been your strongest subject, but at the very least you would try to put the effort in. Now, though, it's not the only subject where your grades are slipping, and I'm afraid that you are leaving us with very little choice."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dick asked apprehensively.

"With your grades in the state that they are, it has become apparent to your teachers that you are struggling with the advanced curriculum," Mrs Alcott said, and Dick had the horrifying thought that he might know exactly where this conversation was going. "Taking into consideration the trauma of the kidnapping earlier in the year and the stress that must have put on you, I believe that it would be better for you to repeat the year."

" _What?"_

"This isn't a punishment, Richard," Mrs Alcott tried to explain, but Dick was already seeing red. This wasn't fair. They didn't understand. Why couldn't _one_ thing go _right_ in this messed-up life that he was living? "I am trying to _help_ you. You are an intelligent boy, but that alone is not going to see you through and you are just going to keep falling behind. I'm sorry, Richard, but I am making my recommendation to Principal Pritchard this afternoon."

What was Bruce going to say? Dick didn't think that he could handle that disappointment on top of everything else... And what if it made his mentor look closer? What if he started asking questions...? Noticing that it wasn't just his grades that had slipped...? What would Shiva do to defend herself if the Batman went after her? All that he was trying to protect-

Wait. _Recommendation?_

Dick blinked, trying to force the panic and anger out of his voice and find a timbre more charming. "What do I need to do to _not_ repeat the year?"

Mrs Alcott sighed, giving him a look that was close to pity. "Richard, please. You've been through a lot this year. No one is going to think any less of you for struggling, and by repeating sophomore year you will simply be working at the level _expected_ of your age. There is no shame in that-"

"Ma'am, please, you don't understand," Dick cut her off, earning himself a tired look from the teacher that had been educating teenagers for years. She thought that this was an ego thing, maybe some teenage angst. Jeez, he _wished_ this was something as normal as that. He would give anything to only have run of the mill girl problems or peer pressure or whatever... but no. He had the responsibility of safeguarding his friends and family's identities; maintaining a charade that his teacher was about to take a sledgehammer to if she got him pulled back a year...

Of all the things that he had fought to keep up appearances for; it was going to be _school_ that brought it all crashing down. He couldn't believe it. He should've tried harder. Should have realised just how bad his grades were slipping. Damn it all. He should have been _better._

"Ma'am," Dick tried again, allowing just a little of the desperation to line his tone, wielding the silver tongue with the fluidity of someone with far too much practice. "I'm sorry that I let things get this bad, and I promise, I am going to try harder, but please... If Bruce ever found out... With my new brother I... I can't fail the year. Please, what can I do?"

Mrs Alcott studied him a for a moment, which was a mistake on her part. Her gaze met the baby-blue puppy dog eyes that had even managed to get the _Batman_ to reconsider on a few rare occasions. She didn't stand a chance. "The end of year exams start next week," she conceded slowly. "Achieve a passing grade in _every_ subject, and by that I mean at least a _C_ across the board, and I will not raise the matter with Principal Pritchard."

Dick smiled at the teacher, not quite believing his luck. "Thank you, ma'am!"

Okay, so he would have to do some serious studying (but hey, it wasn't like he was sleeping, he could squeeze it in) and it was a heck of a lot of exams that he would have to pass... but it was doable, right? He was smart, exams were usually pretty easy for him... Yeah. He could do this.

"Oh, and Richard," Mrs Alcott called as he turned to leave. He paused between her desk and the door as she picked up a book and held it out to him. " _This_ is what we're studying, by the way. Part of the exam will be an essay on the book's themes – I suggest that you read it."

Dick's grin turned sheepish as he realised that he didn't even have a copy of the course material, let alone know what the novel was called. "Thanks," he muttered.

Maybe this wouldn't be as easy as he thought.

* * *

Weekday evenings in the cave had become progressively more and more quiet. Admittedly, the chances of being assigned a mission on a school night were pretty much nil, and Black Canary avoided training sessions during the week for the same reason; but once upon a time none of that would have really made a difference.

Maybe it was just that the novelty of being teen heroes, trusted for the first time, had finally worn of. Maybe it was just that as they got older, schoolwork needed just that little bit more attention. With exam season coming up, it was easy enough to blame the emptiness of the cave on studying and the like. But every now and again, Wally feared that it was something _more_ than that.

The zeta tube loudly announced his arrival, but as was becoming the norm, there was no one around to even simply look up and wave at him. The hallways were deserted, and a short walk to the main cavern revealed that to be empty too. No M'gann cooking in the kitchen (she was at cheerleading practice, if Wally remembered correctly). No Supey watching the static on the TV (studying or brooding somewhere deeper in the cave if the speedster had to guess). No Kaldur, who had been spending more and more time in Atlantis since Tula and Garth had decided to explore the surface world (additional training, was his excuse).

And no girlfriend or Boy Wonder either. But that was even more complicated.

Wally sighed heavily as he loaded up on snacks from the kitchen and plonked himself down on the green couch. Simply for noise in the eerily silent cave he turned on the TV, some random trash talk show murmuring on in the background. With half a twinkie stuffed in his mouth he pulled out his laptop from his school bag and grabbed the first textbook that fell out; having every intention of studying...

...before being distracted by the open tabs on his computer.

The twinkie and several chicken whizees vanished as he sped-read and flicked between college websites for the hundredth time, alternating mostly between Caltech and Stanford even as he also lingered on Harvard's extensive list of courses. He still had a year left of high school, but he was going to have to start applying soon and a part of him couldn't wait.

He could picture it already. Him and Artemis in their own place near campus, maybe with a dog or something... catching a zeta to the cave on weekends to help with missions... It would be damn near perfect.

And okay, yeah, they were only seventeen and _maybe_ he shouldn't be planning their futures together just yet but, well, they had already been through so much. Saved each other's lives, seen each other at their best (and worst) and Wally just couldn't imagine that ever ending. He had already told her that he loved her (yep, the L-word had definitely been used) and while she hadn't said it back, he understood. She didn't have to say it for him to know that the feeling was mutual.

They were _meant_ to be together, even if... even if she was being all weird with him at the moment.

The zeta announced Artemis' arrival as if he had summoned her with mere thought. He kept stuffing his face and cruising the tabs as he waited for her to make her way to the main cavern.

"Is there anything left?" she asked by way of greeting as she strode in and took one look at the disaster area of snack wrappers that surrounded the speedster. Wally just grinned at her, watching as she sighed and gave the kitchen cupboards a cursory glance before selecting a soda and sashaying over to the sofa. She had lost her Gotham Academy uniform for her casual civvies and her hair was loose around her shoulders, making Wally smile at her slyly.

Yeah... she was pretty damn perfect.

"Wally, uh," Artemis said awkwardly after a moment, shattering Wally's illusion of peace. "We need to talk."

Well that didn't bode well. "About...?" Wally prompted a little nervously. He wasn't blind and he definitely wasn't stupid. He _had_ noticed his girlfriend's recent change in attitude towards him, he had just been ignoring it in the hopes that it was just a phase. A small bump in the road of their relationship. If he didn't look at it too closely then maybe things would be just as perfect as he dreamed for them.

He also knew just how totally naïve that sounded.

"About... about college," Artemis replied.

Wally grinned, giving a relieved laugh before grabbing up his laptop. "Jeez, Babe, you gave me a heart attack! I thought you were gonna break up with me or something!"

"Uh-"

"Look, I've been on some websites, trying to figure out where would be best for us, you know," Wally clicked on the Caltech tab and pulled up the list of courses, scrolling through to the ones that he figured Artemis would be most interested in. "They've got a whole bunch of those engineering courses you said you were maybe thinking about, but not so much of the lit stuff. Stanford's got loads of those though, including Vietnamese Lit – I didn't even know that was a subject! You would totally ace that and-"

"Wally!" Artemis snapped, cutting him off rather abruptly. Wally deflated back against the sofa under her frustrated glare, not understanding where the borderline anger was coming from. And then she sighed, her expression softening slightly. "I'm sorry... I just... I don't think I want to go to college."

"What?" Wally most definitely did not squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "But... You said... Why?"

Artemis sighed again, fidgeting uncomfortably as she toyed with the pull ring of her soda can. "I'm sorry, Wally, I really am, it's just... the whole college thing. It's just not me."

Wally furrowed his brow in confusion, trying to focus on what his girlfriend was saying even as his own disappointment threatened to boil over into anger. The dream that he hadn't realised that he had been _clinging_ to was suddenly getting further and further away and he desperately tried to claw it back. "Is this because you don't think you're smart enough?" he asked. "Because you totally are, babe."

Artemis blushed at the praise while simultaneously rolling her eyes in disbelief. "It's not that-"

"Is it money?" Wally kept pushing. "Because there are ways around that, you know. Scholarships are a possibility... or Bats could make sure that the Wayne Foundation kept sponsoring you or... Or we could just tell the League of Assassins that your sister is crashing at Roy's place and cash in on the reward money."

Artemis snorted a laugh at that but it was quickly gone. "You need to stop, okay? I'm not going to college and if that's a problem then... then I guess you need to make a choice too. Before this goes too far."

She was on her feet before his brain could catch up with what she had said and form some sort of reply to stop her. She was gone before he could zip to his feet and knock a forgotten textbook to the carpet. It was to a cave that was as empty as was fast becoming the norm when he said "Babe... don't leave me too."

* * *

Math was the stupidest thing that had ever existed. And that wasn't because Jason didn't understand it, because he did... sort of. It was because he couldn't think why he would ever need to know how to work out the length of one side of a triangle – like, wasn't that what tape measures were for? He had survived fine enough on the streets without needing any of this crap, why was he being forced to learn it now?

It was stupid. Period.

Jason shoved away the workbook that Alfred had insisted he complete for homework, throwing his pencil too for good measure. Not for the first time in the six months that he had been living at the manor, his gaze drifted to the window of his bedroom. And the backpack that rested packed and ready beside it. He had decided that he was going to stay, the bag was just there as a rapid escape plan in case things didn't work out. But every now and then, the temptation to just run back to the world that he knew would have him itching. Especially now.

It wasn't that the lessons were too hard. He enjoyed his time hanging out with Alfred in the library, even when they had to do stupid math problems instead of reading the books. He liked talking to Barbara too when she came by the cave to train. And having easy access to food and a warm place to sleep was always a plus...

It was this weird... _tension_... that had settled in the manor. He couldn't really explain it, or even really pinpoint when it had started or where it had came from. There was just this feeling that pricked at his instincts, like ozone before a storm, setting him on edge. Call it a sixth sense from his former life, but he just _knew_ that something bad was about to happen... or something big was about to change... and he didn't know whether or not he still wanted to be living at the manor when that happened.

A knock on his door dragged his eyes away from the open window. "What?"

Dick poked his head round the door. "Nice to see you too, Jay-bird," he quipped lightly. "You busy?"

Jason shrugged and gestured at the clearly abandoned math homework "Just trigo-stupidity or whatever it's called. What do you want?"

Dick put on his best charming smile and pushed the door all the way open so that he could slip inside, revealing a armful of paper and textbooks propped against one hip. He picked out a thin novel from the pile and held it up for Jason to see the cover. "Any chance you've read 'Of Mice and Men'?" he asked hopefully.

"Who hasn't?" Jason snorted.

"Me, apparently," Dick shrugged in answer. "And I have an exam on it in five days. Can you give me the cliffnotes version and like, a few key quotes? Oh, and maybe explain to me who the hell George is and what it is that he did that was so bad I should be able to _'justify or condemn'_ it in an essay?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "You want me to help you cheat?"

"Nope, I want you to help me revise a book that I don't have the time to read," Dick grinned. He nodded at the math homework. "I'll do your trigo-stupidity, as you so ingeniously named it. _And_ you can have my desserts for a week."

Jason decided not to mention that Dick had a growing tendency to not eat his desserts anyway, choosing to nod instead. "Deal."

"Awesome." Dick shut the door behind him, dropped his stack of homework on the edge of the desk and then promptly evicted Jason from his desk chair onto the floor. Grumbling from where he had landed on the carpet, Jason glared up at the smirking older boy. "Seniority. Big brother privilege."

Considering that he had just been upended from his own chair in his own room, Jason definitely shouldn't have wanted to smile, but he couldn't help himself. He ducked his head to hide the expression, taking Dick's research materials and creating himself a little study nest on the floor. It had been a long time since Dick had called himself 'big brother' (well, actually, it had been a long time since they had talked outside of family dinners) and it reminded Jason of why he had chosen to stay in the first place; the backpack by the window at least temporarily forgotten.

Silence fell as the two got to work, Jason flicking through the novella and jotting down relevant details in a makeshift cribsheet, while Dick looked through the math workbook trying to figure out how many questions to get wrong so that Alfred would believe that Jason had done it. Not that they really believed that they could truly fool the butler, of course. No one could do that.

It was as they sat there like that that Jason started noticing little things. The way that Dick was hunched over the desk, propped up on his elbows as if he wouldn't be able to stay upright any other way. The way that he kept rubbing at his eyes and stifling yawns, even though a glance at the clock told them that it was barely seven o'clock. Dick hadn't even had training with the team that day, just school as far as Jason knew, but the older teen looked utterly exhausted.

"Hey, Dick-face," Jason couldn't help the crude nickname, but what startled him more was the fact that his quiet voice had made the Robin jump. "Are you okay?"

Dick instantly smiled, his slumped posture correcting itself as he turned to look down at the younger boy. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just..." Jason shrugged. He didn't know why he had asked in the first place, he should have known that Dick would just deflect the concern right back at him. He decided to change the subject before he started gushing like he did with Barbara the other day. Damn, that was embarrassing. "Is Bruce going out tonight?" Dick nodded, a little off-guard. "But you're not? Why?"

"He said that he wanted to go solo tonight," it was Dick's turn to shrug. "Don't worry about it-"

"I'm not worried," Jason cut him off defensively. Although, if he were being really honest with himself, he was maybe a _little_ worried. Just not about Bruce. "Who's watching his back?"

Dick was looking at Jason just a little too closely. "I've got my comm on if he needs me and Alfred will be monitoring his feed... Are you sure you're okay, Jay?"

Jason glared and crossed his arms, determined to derail this conversation. "Shouldn't you be doing my homework?"

Dick huffed a laugh. "Shouldn't you be doing mine?"

* * *

The nerve strike caught Batman directly between two armour plates along his spine, the pain shooting outwards and almost stopping him from throwing up a block in time. The second hit collided with his forearm with enough force that it broke his assailant's own hand – not that it slowed the other man down.

There were two of them; two men of slight build and clad in dark clothes, that had come from the shadows like ghosts as Batman had approached the warehouse. His investigation into the person behind the curtain of the Hatter case had led him wildly across Gotham; a chase that was growing tiresome as it became clear that someone was leaving him breadcrumbs to follow. It was time to change the game.

The warehouse was one of many situated in a part of the city that the chase had consistently skirted around, implying that it was an area that someone didn't want the Batman looking too closely at. And now, to confirm his suspicions, his attackers (that were clearly several steps above the average goon) had intercepted him, obviously with the aim of keeping him from progressing any further.

He was close to something. Something worth hiding.

Something worth hiring two highly skilled fighters to protect.

Another punch caught him in the kidneys hard enough to be felt through the kevlar, making Batman grunt as he struck out in retaliation. His own punch was swiftly dodged, but he managed to catch the dark-clothed assailant with a knee to the gut instead, doubling the other man in half and following through with an elbow to the back. With one at least momentarily incapacitated (these men didn't stay down for long) Batman turned his focus onto the one with the broken hand.

Grabbing the appendage should have caused the attacker enough pain to halt his progress, but it was as if the man didn't even feel it. Batman tightened his grip and twisted, aiming for an arm hold that the man deftly spun out of; dislocating his own shoulder in the process.

The first man was back up, trying to capitalise on Batman's blind spot, but the Dark Knight turned and delivered a swift kick to his kneecap, two jabs to the sternum and an uppercut in quick succession, putting the man back down again.

With one arm and one hand, the second man kept coming. Batman initially suspected that he was dosed with something – the injuries barely slowed him down – but his attacks were still coordinated and adapted to his handicap; which was generally impossible with performance enhancing drugs fuelling a fight. Which led to the hypothesis of extreme training – but who would go so far to hone the skills of a faceless minion?

The fight continued on for longer than it should have, considering that it was Batman versus only two opponents, but finally the tide turned. The first man took two punches to the face before being roughly slammed into a wall, the brickwork knocking his skull a third time and making his eyes roll back in his head. He dropped, and Batman let him, quickly turning to block the second man-

-but no one was there.

The man with the broken hand had vanished. Scanning the alleyway each way and looking up to the rooftops, there was no sign of the second man. No sound of retreating footsteps, no moving shadows... nothing.

Scowling, Batman bent to lift up the first man, shaking him back into consciousness. "Who are you?" he demanded, reinforcing the question with a shove against the wall. "Who do you work for? What are you protecting?"

The man's eyes focused hazily onto Batman's cowl, his bloodied face twisting into a grin.

"Who do you work for?!" Batman growled again. "Give me a name!"

There wasn't even a flicker of fear in the man's eyes as he continued to smile, slowly raising his left hand. Batman watched the movement warily, tensed for an attack, but the man simply held the hand up before his face. Batman caught sight of a tattoo on the man's palm, a millisecond glimpse of a symbol, before a whistle of air warned him to move.

The arrow nicked the side of Batman's cowl, before embedding itself through the man's hand and deep into his eye socket. Death had been instant, but the arrow was intended for more than just silencing the man. The hiss of bubbling skin and the scent of burning flesh filled the night air; any chance of identifying the man or seeing the tattoo up close eaten away by the acid seeping from the arrow's shaft. Quickly, Batman searched his belt for a neutraliser, pouring the liquid onto the dead man's skin to halt the spread, but it was too late.

With a huff of frustration and regret at the loss of life, Batman let the corpse go and stepped back, searching for the shooter. But again, there was nothing. Not even a trace.

Batman turned towards the warehouse that had been so well protected, feeling with every step closer that he was still playing the same game despite his attempt to buck the trend. He wrenched open the rusted door, the hinges giving with a pained squeal, revealing the completely empty interior.

He was being toyed with.

But two could play at this game.

* * *

Kaldur stood in the training room of Mt. Justice, hands clasped behind his back and eyes attentively focused on the holo-screen before him. On either side of him the rest of the team was gathered; Connor, M'gann, Tula and Garth to his left, and Robin, Wally and Artemis to his right. Before them was Batman, Black Canary and Red Tornado, the three Leaguers explaining their upcoming mission.

Their Friday night training session had been deemed compulsory that week, forcing everyone into attendance for the first time in quite a while. Once Black Canary had put them through their paces, tutting as their coordination with each other had lacked its usual fluidity, Batman had made his appearance, summoning them all before the monitors.

"This is a covert assignment," he reiterated, because that was a mission parameter that the team had a bad habit of overlooking. "The samples will be transported to Star City in an armoured truck, but additional security will be required. Your task is to tail the truck and watch for credible threats; intercepting if necessary. Only a small three-man team will be required. Aqualad, select the team."

Kaldur hesitated a moment, not having expected to be the one making that choice. He could feel Tula and Garth looking at him expectantly, the pair of them having been itching to go on a mission since the chances of the team being deployed had become so scarce. But then they would hope for him to be the third member... and as much as he trusted in their abilities, he did not trust _himself_ to remain objective. It was a risk that he would not take.

"Artemis, Robin and Kid Flash, with Artemis as Team Leader," Kaldur chose quickly. He ignore the betrayed look on Tula's face and the spluttered argument from Garth, only meeting the Dark Knight's gaze. Connor and M'gann didn't seem to have a problem with the decision, and while Artemis looked momentarily stunned that she was going to be put in charge, Robin made no move to object.

Batman studied them all, and then nodded in agreement. "The three of you will meet at the collection site at 1600 hours tomorrow. Dismissed."

"What was that about Kal?" Garth demanded as the team began to disperse, the dark-haired Atlantean grabbing Kaldur's arm before he could leave. "That mission was perfect for the three of us! We have been waiting for a chance to prove ourselves solo, you know that! Why would you just give it away like that?"

Tula was studying Kaldur with her aquamarine eyes. "What has been happening with you lately?"

"It was not personal," Kaldur answered, backing out of Garth's grip and avoiding Tula's eyes. "I just felt that given the mission parameters, Kid Flash and the others were better suited. They have always worked well as a team."

"And we do not?" Tula asked pointedly.

 _Not anymore,_ Kaldur thought sadly. _Not since I fell in love with you._


End file.
